The Secret That Lies Within
by SwitchBlader458
Summary: Callie is a master at cracking codes. But there is one specific file that has her frustrated; something about a 'Mission City' and something that happened within. Better summary inside. Bumblebee/OC, Optimus/OC, Rated T for language and violence
1. Crazy Cops and Bicycle Chases

Callie is a master at cracking codes. But there is one specific file that has her frustrated; something about a 'Mission City' and something that happened within. When she stumbles upon the biggest secret of her life, will she be able to keep her sanity under the pressure and save a newly acquired friend?

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers; If I did, Jazz would still be alive.

* * *

_What the hell is with this guy?!_ I shouted at myself inwardly, puffing heavily as I strained my muscles to turn the pedals faster.

My day had started out normally, with me taking a ride around the town on my old mountain bike, stopping at the bagel shop to pick up a breakfast special – a cinnamon and sugar bagel with cream cheese, peanut butter, honey and banana slices. It doesn't sound very good, but it is delicious.

So I sit down at one of the tables and enjoy my meal in relative silence before heading out again, gliding along casually on my black bike, when I start getting tailed by this cop.

You see, I'm not exactly what one would call a law abiding citizen – what I mean to say is, I'm a hacker. I crack classified files on a daily basis. The newest one I had stumbled upon was something about a 'Mission City' and something that had happened within; I was still unscrambling the code and hadn't made much progress as of yet. It was proving exceedingly difficult and I wasn't familiar with the encryption style. It was almost… alien.

Anyways, seeing this state cop following me in a rather unsubtle manner set off multiple screaming alarms in my head. They couldn't have tracked me through my computer, could they? No, I would have known. Right? And if they had, wouldn't they, like, send the FBI after me or something?

_I watch too much television¸_ I told myself dryly, peering over my shoulder to see if the cop was still there.

Bad timing, because I didn't notice when a big black truck pulled out in front of me. Needless to say, I smashed head first into the nice shiny paint job near the grill and was thrown off of my bike. I don't think I did any damage to the truck, sadly, but I could feel a bruise forming on my right cheek bone and on my backside.

As I groaned pitifully on the asphalt, I saw the strangest sight – the cop car seemed to recognize the black truck and revved it's engine, almost angrily or spitefully, and fled.

"What?" I ventured aloud, sitting up painfully.

"Are you all right?" asked a gruff voice as the driver of the truck stepped down from the running boards next to my ear. I glanced up at him, wincing as my neck stung slightly. He looked to be around 35-40 and had short salt-and-pepper hair. His muscular build was a little daunting from my position on the ground, but the thing that caught my attention the most was his eyes – they were black. Not dark brown, but pure black.

"I'll live," I groaned, biting back a curse as I stood from the ground.

"Are you sure you would not like me to contact the medical response team to further asses your injuries?"

"No, thanks." I blinked at the black eyed stranger.

_What a strange man_, I thought as I bent to retrieve my bicycle. I heard the roar of an engine and my head snapped up to see the truck beating a hasty retreat. Without a 'sorry', or even a 'goodbye'.

Grumbling quietly to myself about the audacity of people and crazy policemen, I mounted my bike once again and made my way quickly to the apartment complex I lived in, every once in a while casting a wary glance over my shoulder in case that cop should get it in his head to follow me to my home.

Once there (and not once spotting that peculiar policeman), I hefted the light aluminum frame over my shoulder and carried my bike up the stairs to my door, pausing only momentarily to insert my key into the lock before abandoning it in a careless heap near my bean bag couch.

Traipsing over to my computer, I collapsed with a sigh into my rolling chair before flipping the power switch on the monitor. The screen blinked insistently, waiting for me to input my code. Resting my left elbow on the desk and dropping chin onto palm, I lazily picked out the keys with the pointer finger of my right hand.

The screen flashed again, telling me I had input the wrong code. Growling in the back of my throat, I lifted my head and used both hands to type in the correct password. After the stubborn little machine finally granted me access, I pulled up the heavily coded file I had been previously trying to crack and began my efforts anew.

I have no idea how long I was working on that file, but I had only succeeded in decoding one sentence before there was a sharp rap on my door. Startled, I knocked over a glass of water that had been sitting next to the keyboard (that missed all of the important electronics, thankfully) and winced as it shattered on the wood floor. I cast a glance at the clock – it read 2:23 a.m. Damn, how long had I been working?

"Shenanigans," I hissed, throwing a nearby towel over on top of the mess and flipping the switch on my computer before running over to answer the door.

"Callistus Acheson?" questioned the man as soon as I opened the door. I gave him a wary look.

"Yeah…?"

"I need you to come with us," he snapped, motioning to one of his followers that then came forward and proceeded to twist my hands behind my back.

"Hey, wait, on whose authority?" I demanded, struggling against the metallic cuffs that restricted the blood flow to my hands.

"Secretary of Defense John Keller," the man replied unabashedly, leading the way as I was thrown carelessly into a black SUV.

_Oh, shit_, was all I could think as the vehicle pulled away from the sidewalk and a handful of curious onlookers.


	2. Interrogation

Heya! Thanks for tuning into the newest chapter of my story. And thanks to all of you who reviewed! Bumblebee plushies for all! Hehe. And, as requested, this chapter I believe is longer than the last. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. If I did, Jazz would still be alive.

* * *

A loud _SLAM_ forced my bleary, multi-colored eyes to open as I raised my head from the cold metal table. My hands, free from their metallic bonds, rested lightly on my elbows, making a protective box around the top of my head as I attempted to drift into a slumber while waiting for my captors to address me.

There was probably a red patch on the middle of my forehead where it had been resting on the hard surface, but I didn't care. I glanced up at the man standing in front of me who had created the racket by dropping some files onto the table, catching my disheveled reflection in the one-way mirror behind him.

Boy, did I look terrible. My jet black hair was ratty, my blue eye was more noticeably bloodshot than my brown, and there was indeed a glowing pink spot above my eyebrows.

The man stared at me. I stared back, almost glaring because the intensity of the light hurt my fragile, sleep deprived eyes.

He could have been attractive if he had ditched the stern look. It made him look like he was constipated, in my opinion. His dark brown hair was regulation short, showing the white earpiece that dangled from his right ear, disappearing into the folds of his painstakingly ironed suit. Matching chocolate brown eyes bored into my own as if he could force me to divulge my secrets if he stared at me long enough.

The silence stretched as we watched one another, waiting for the other to speak first, to break the aggravating silence.

He spoke first, to my immense pleasure.

"I assume you are wondering why you are here," he grumbled, looking a bit peeved that he had to be the first to articulate.

I eyed him carefully, searching through the following stillness for any sign of a trick.

"Yes," I replied, monotone.

"Yesterday at 10:24 a.m. you were reported to have been 'followed' by a state policeman, his squad car bearing the numbers six five two. Is this correct?"

I started to nod, but then froze.

"No," I shook my head, earning a raised eyebrow from agent-man.

"Please, feel free to correct anything you see is amiss."

Sighing, I leaned forward in my chair and placed my elbows on the table, cupping my left hand in my right and placing them against my lips.

"The cruiser's number wasn't six fifty-two," I started hesitantly. "It was six forty-three."

"Do you know the reason for its attentiveness to you?"

_You could just ask if I knew why it was following me, _I thought, inwardly rolling my eyes at the overly specific inquisitioner.

"No."

"Had you done anything to provoke or otherwise anger the policeman?"

"No."

"Have you had any encounters with this specific policeman other than the one that took place yesterday?"

I frowned a bit, slightly confused by the wording, but then shook my head.

"No."

"Are you sure about your answers?"

"Yes," I stated without hesitation, as if daring the man to challenge me. He didn't.

"Very well. You will be escorted to your quarters, where you will be asked to stay for the remainder of your time here."

"Wait, what? I can't go home?" I questioned, confused and slightly panicking. "How long will I have to stay here?"

"Not long, I assure," came another voice, making my head jerk over towards the origin of the sound. There stood a man with slicked back light brown hair that was graying at the tips, watching me with blue-grey eyes.

_SecDef Keller_, I thought in awe as I stood from my position by the table. With a nod, he led me out of the interrogation room and past four onlookers – they were a motley bunch to be sure.

The first I passed was a little taller than me (which isn't saying much because I'm pretty short) but looked to be the same age, around 20-25 years, with shaggy golden blond hair and a black fringe which two startling blue eyes peered through, watching me with unconcealed interest.

The second was a man in his late twenties, wearing a trucker hat under which lie calculating hazel eyes and short medium brown hair.

The third of the group was the truck driver I had encountered earlier yesterday, which made my already confused mind even more so.

The final member of the strange bunch looked to be a doctor or some kind of scientist. He looked to be in his early thirties and had spiked black hair, with wise emerald eyes hidden behind an emotionless mask.

I ran a hand through my hair in an attempt to straighten out the tangles as we passed by, finally realizing how hopelessly unkempt I must have looked to them.

"Who were they?" I questioned of the SecDef as we walked on, attempting to make it sound like an offhand question. I was too tired to even care any more.

"Friends," he replied vaguely, frustrating me slightly in my fatigued state.

"Why am I here?" I ventured, noticing that I had no idea where 'here' was. Keller and myself were the only occupants of the small and rather ominous hallway. A door to my left had a glowing number pad, which caught my attention because it was the only one to have any sort of security system I could see.

"Here is your room." The secretary's voice popped into my mind harshly as he stopped at a random door among the many that littered the walls. "You are not to leave unless under express permission from myself, understood?"

I simply gaped at him, my poor exhausted brain not functioning at full capacity.

"Good night, Callistus."

* * *

When I awoke next I felt fully refreshed, energetic, and hungry. Actually, 'hungry' was an understatement. I hadn't eaten since breakfast yesterday, so I was ravenous.

As I sat up in bed, a loud growl from my stomach forced upon me the realization of just how famished I was. I had been so tired that when I got to the bed I simply collapsed on it, not even bothering to remove my shoes or get under the covers.

As if someone had read my mind, a loud knock on the door echoed around the empty room. Yawning, I stretched a bit before going to answer the summons.

There stood the blonde I had seen earlier, holding a tray of food with a friendly smile.

"Oh, hi," I greeted, relieving him of the tray. He simply waved, and then made a gesture with his hands. I blinked, not understanding, before finally realizing what he was doing.

"Oh, you can't talk? You're using sign language?"

He nodded, and then made the motion again. I paid attention this time, watching as he pointed the first two fingers on both hands and tapped the middle finger of his right hand against the index finger of his left hand, making an 'X'.

"Name?"

He smiled happily, nodding, before pointing all four fingers of his right hand towards the ceiling and flattening his thumb against his palm.

"B."

He seemed ecstatic that I could understand him – the only reason I could was because my great-grandmother was deaf, so we all had to learn sign language in order to converse with her.

"E. E. Bee?" I questioned, watching with an amused expression as he clapped his hands in an affirmative. Directly after that he made another sign, followed by the motion for 'name'.

"Brief. Name. Nickname? Your nickname is Bee?"

The blonde nodded again, then pointed at me and once more made the sign for 'name'.

"My name? Callistus, but my nickname is Callie." I watched him for a moment as he tried signing my name out slowly, then frowned at how long it took him to complete the word. He smiled and shrugged, then pointed at me and mimed eating before waving goodbye.

"Bye, Bee," I laughed, waving back as he disappeared down the hall. As soon as I shut the door my stomach rumbled again, demanding that it be fed. I collapsed happily on my bed and finally took in what had been put on the tray for me. There was a turkey sandwich, potato chips, apple slices and a glass of lemonade.

It had definitely been prepared by someone's mother. I hadn't had a meal like this since I was in elementary school.

Shaking my head, I cheerfully devoured the meal and set the tray on the nightstand by my bed. Just as I was lying back down, somebody else was pounding on my door. Sighing, I got up once again to answer.

"Yes?" I questioned, leaning against the doorframe as I saw the guy with the trucker hat. He gave a warm smile upon seeing me.

"Callistus?"

"Callie," I corrected, straightening my posture. This guy seemed pretty nice, and he had an air of authority about him.

"Callie then. I'm Geoffrey, or Jeff. Secretary Keller has asked for you to join him in hopes that he could ask you a few more questions." It was a subtle question, I noticed. "That is, if you are ready."

"Oh, yeah, sure."

Great. More interrogation.


	3. Criminal Thoughts

Hey! Sorry about the wait and shortness of the chapter, I had a bad case of writer's block and all-around lackadaisicalness (a.k.a. laziness). Thanks for all the reviews, alerts and favorites!

* * *

"And you said you don't know why the policeman was following you."

"Yes." _Four times. Isn't that enough?_ "Pardon the question sir, but is there a reason behind all of these inquiries?"

The Secretary of Defense sighed, resting his elbows on the smooth surface of the table, watching me as if he was contemplating my demise. It made me a little uneasy.

"The driver of the police car with the number six-four-three is believed to be a part of a," he paused, as if searching for the right word; I suspected he was actually trying to avoid disclosing information that I wasn't supposed to know, "terrorist group." That caught me off guard. Blinking, I shook my head.

"But what would a terrorist group want with _me_?"

"We believe you have some sort of information that they find highly desirable."

I scoffed openly, running a hand through my hair.

"That's ridiculous! I'm a waitress in a family owned restaurant, what information could they possibly want from me? How to work the cash register?"

Then a thought popped into my head – the Mission City files. But how would the 'terrorist group' know I had them? Unless… I had hacked _their_ files and they had squirmed a tracker virus into the alien-like coding. But that was impossible. There was nothing on this Earth that complex. Right?

"Ms. Acheson? Do you have any idea why they might be after you?"

I looked at Keller with a frown marring my features, shaking my head. The less he knew, the better for me. I mean, it wouldn't be very smart to tell SecDef to his face that I was a hacker. That would be like signing my own death warrant.

"Okay. Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Acheson. If you don't mind, our doctor, Eric, would like to take a look at you."

I raised an eyebrow, but shrugged and complied with the request. It was just like going to a standard checkup. Place a stethoscope against your back, take a deep breath, etc. Eric, the guy with the spiked black hair and green eyes, seemed to not even care what he was doing, as long as it got done. This made me a bit suspicious, but I kept the thought to myself.

"Something on your mind, Callistus?" came the grumbled question as Eric stood in front of me, scribbling madly on a clipboard with not even a glance in my direction. I flinched at the unexpected noise.

"Callie," I corrected, before shaking my head. "And not really." Eyebrows raised at the statement in disbelief.

"Is that so?" he questioned, peering at me over the top of the clipboard.

"I've just… always been uncomfortable around doctors," I admitted. This was the truth, to an extent. My unease of doctors was born mostly from when I was about seven; I was hospitalized for a week with a blood disorder that had an incredibly difficult name to remember that I couldn't even pronounce back then (and probably still couldn't, even today). Thankfully it was an acute disorder, so I've been fine ever since, but with blood disorders there is generally a lot of testing of the blood. And when there is a lot of testing of the blood, there is a lot of drawing of the blood. Needless to say I'm not the fondest of needles.

"I see. Do you mind if I take a blood sample?" questioned Eric, making me wonder briefly if he could actually read minds.

"Yes," I snapped, a little too harshly. He raised his hands in a calming gesture.

"Fair enough. You may go."

I blinked at the abrupt dismissal, stunned for a moment before I jumped off of the table/bed/thing that doctors had you sit on while they did their job.

"Nothing wrong with me?" I questioned, only half serious. He cocked his head at me in an odd way.

"Aside from a slight case of stunted growth, you appear to be very healthy."

My eyelids drooped at the over-worded sentence as I fought back the urge to roll my eyes.

"You mean I'm short? Yeah, I know," I replied, turning on my heel as I made my way to the door. "Thanks, doc!"

Only a slight chuckle came from the man in question as he attended to some other matter that didn't concern the likes of me.

I stepped out of the door, expecting to see someone there to escort me to my room. I was not disappointed, though I_ was_ surprised at who was there waiting for me.

He was leaning against the wall, looking very much like a child waiting for the principal to berate him for something he had done. It was so cute, I couldn't help but laugh a bit as I saw him. His electrifying blue eyes – which had previously been enraptured by the ceiling – drifted down to meet mine with an innocent look.

"Hey Bee," I greeted, earning a grin and a wave from the blond in question. He pointed to me, himself, and then made the motion for 'room'. I fought back the perverted thoughts as well as I could, though a snort did manage to escape my defense. He cocked his head to the side with a questioning look, making my heart skip a beat as I looked at him.

"Sorry, I was just thinking," I told him. "You're supposed to take me to my room then?"

He nodded, and I swear I heard a metallic chirp come from him as we began walking down the hall. Ignoring my overactive imagination, I glanced inconspicuously out of the corner of my eye at the glowing number pad as we walked past it to my room.

_That wouldn't be hard to hack_, I thought quietly to myself.

Unfortunately, I was right.

* * *

In case you were wondering, the blood disorder's name is Idiopathic thrombocytopenic purpura (also called ITP) - and yes, it is a real disorder. I was hospitalized for a week in second grade with ITP, and I was deathly afraid of needles. My brother said he could hear me screaming from down the hall. -_-' How embarrassing. Well, at least that helped me to get over my phobia of needles ^^


	4. Criminal Actions

Here's to make up for the long wait on that last chapter. I'm really surprised at the response to my story. You guys rock! Thanks for all the reviews, alerts, and favorites!

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers, and probably never will in my lifetime.

Enjoy!

* * *

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

I glared up at the ceiling, not really paying attention to the visuals my eyes were projecting into my mind as I counted the seconds irritably.

_Twelve hours, eleven minutes and twenty-three seconds._

_Twenty-four seconds._

_Twenty-five seconds._

I ran a hand over my jeans pocket, feeling the screwdriver I had pocketed earlier pressing against my hip.

_Thirty seconds._

Though it was past midnight, I was wide awake courtesy of the adrenaline pulsing through my veins.

_Thirty-four seconds._

_I am so going to jail for the rest of my life for this._

The hallway outside was devoid of any life. Silence stretched throughout the base, grinding my nerves down to a fine line.

_It's only a crime if you get caught_, I reminded myself of the first rule of hacking and then, shortly after, the second.

_Whatever you do, don't get caught._

_Lifetime sentence,_ the voice in my head taunted. I politely told it to shut the hell up.

With a deep, anxious sigh, I swung my feet over the side of the bed and shuffled quietly over to the door, pressing my ear cautiously against the cold metal.

The sheer soundlessness made my stomach twist in a very uncomfortable way.

_Now or never. Now or never._

_You're not gonna do it, you wuss._

Then, as if to prove my inner voice wrong I cracked open the door, checking to make sure the coast was clear before taking a timid step out into the hallway.

_No alarms have gone off yet. That I can hear, anyway._

Letting out a shaky breath, I treaded lightly over to the door with the flashing number pad. Trembling fingers removed the screwdriver from my pocket and found the seam of the black box, pressing lightly against it until…

With a whisper-light _pop_, the face of the pad plummeted towards the ground. Horrified, I slipped my foot into its path, softening the clatter that came as it collided with the cement floor. I almost literally froze, straining to hear over my rapid heart rate and ragged breathing for any sign of a disturbance.

_One._

_Two._

_Nothing so far. Keep counting._

_Four._

_Five._

_Wait, what was that?_

I closed my eyes, willing my heart to calm down so I could listen. A bead of sweat traced a path down the bridge of my nose, ending at my jaw line as I wiped it away with the back of my wavering hand.

_Nothing. Keep going._

_Seven._

_Eight._

I ran a hand through my ratty hair and pulled the unruly locks into a tight, messy bun.

_Ten. All clear._

I dropped to my knees and peered at the delicate wiring, finally plucking at a maroon colored cable and touching it to an emerald colored one.

_Click_.

I stared with wide eyes at the now unlocked door, disbelief written all over my face.

_Well, that was easy._

Wiping sweaty hands on my jeans, I stood from my position on the floor and replaced the cover of the box before slipping into the mysterious room.

The first thing that caught my attention was two computer monitors lighting up the darkened area, streams upon streams of data scrolling over the constantly moving screens.

The second thing that caught my attention was the giant robot.

At least, that's what it appeared to be.

It was about four times my size, lying on a raised platform; it had the markings of a Search and Rescue vehicle.

Attempting to swallow with a curiously dry throat, I determined that I would find out more about this thing if I studied the computers.

The first one I came upon had a file open – schematics, measurements, and many other things were displayed on the screen. It was covered in the same alien-like coding that I had encountered in the Mission City data I had hacked.

No, it wasn't the same. Similar, but not identical.

Filing that information into the back of my mind, I took a closer look at the info.

_Codename: Ratchet._

_Function: Medical Officer._

Well that explained the Search and Rescue decals. At least in part.

_Partner: Ironhide._

Wait, you're telling me there's more of these things? Where are they hiding them?

Pushing the thoughts out of my mind for later ponderance, I scanned the rest of the data and moved onto the next screen.

This one had lines of the similar-but-not-quite-the-same coding flashing across the screen at regular intervals.

I watched the strange alien-like symbols float across the screen, halfheartedly trying to decipher them but knowing that it was a futile attempt.

Then one more thing caught my eye, and if I hadn't known exactly what it looked like I wouldn't have seen it.

The coding from the Mission City files – it was wormed almost artistically into the other coding. I felt my heart rate pick up a bit as I leaned in closer to the screen, blinking to make sure my eyes weren't playing tricks on me.

I have no idea what it said or what it's function was, but they didn't call me a hacker for nothing; that was a virus. And an alien virus to boot.

If I had enough time, I might have been able to quarantine the virus, maybe even destroy it.

But fate had other plans for me.

"Hands in the air!" a voice shouted from behind me. I swear I almost had a heart attack. Closing my eyes in a grimace, I slowly raised the appendages above my head.

"Walk backwards slowly."

My eyelids fluttered open as I obeyed the command, locking onto something in front of me and my heart almost stopped for the second time in twenty seconds.

The giant robot was now sitting upright on the platform. And it was looking right at me with glowing blue orbs.

I wasn't able to gawk for long as rough hands grabbed me and forced my own behind my back, slapping a pair of cold metal handcuffs on my wrists.

Next thing I know I was dragged down the hall and back into the interrogation room before being forced into a seat by a marine-looking guy.

Several people filtered into the room with me; SecDef Keller (who didn't look at all pleased), three other marines besides the one that had put me in the chair, Bee, Jeff, Eric, the truck driver guy, and the constipated agent guy. I wondered why they were _all_ here, considering it was probably one or two in the morning.

"Thank you Captain," grumbled Keller with a nod towards the marine positioned behind me. I shifted slightly as my arms were bent in a very unpleasant angle.

"Do you have anything to say?" questioned agent guy. I looked at him with a blank expression. He seemed to get a little agitated at my brick wall charade.

"Listen Callistus, we need to know what you know and we need to know it now," snapped Keller, placing his palms on the table as he watched me. I gave him a deadpan look.

"Well, I know that you just said 'know' three times in the same sentence, I'm in a very uncomfortable position right now, and my left hand is going numb."

_Whack!_

That was the sound of the marine behind me delivering a swift kick to my chair. I winced as my arms were twisted even more with the movement.

"I am positive you know more than you are pretending to, because it took more than just a small-town waitress to break into that room," SecDef continued.

"Actually a second grader could have done that," I retorted, biting my lip with a groan as the marine kicked the chair again.

That was apparently the proverbial last straw for the poor secretary as his face grew red with pent-up anger.

"Throw her in the holding cells," he commanded, turning away brusquely as the good captain hauled me up by one arm.

I happened to glance over at Bee, who was watching the proceedings with a depressed look. My heart dropped into my stomach as I gritted my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut.

"Wait!" I pleaded, feeling the iron grip on my arm loosen a bit. Keller turned towards me with an unreadable look on his face. I let out a breath.

"I know why that policeman was after me."


	5. Holograms

Hey, sorry about the wait for the next chapter. But to make up for it, it's definitely longer than the others! Wow, thanks for all the reviews, favorites, alerts, etc! And an extra special thanks to Decepticon05 for announcing my story in hers, Wishing (which you should definitely read) and now Changing, its sequel.

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. If I did, I wouldn't be sitting here writing this story!

* * *

If anyone in the room wasn't looking at me before, they were now.

"At least, I think so," I amended, looking at Keller with the expression I imagined a kicked puppy might have.

Silence. I took a shaky breath, my gaze drifting down towards the table I stood by.

"Mission City," I started, nudging the ground a bit with my toe. "I, uh, _found_ some files about something that happened in Mission City."

"By 'found' you mean…" prompted Keller. I grimaced.

"Hacked," I replied in a small voice. I swear the tension level in the room shot up noticeably.

"You didn't read them?" questioned the captain behind me, obviously picking up on the '_something_ that happened…'.

"No. They were encrypted in a strange way. Kind of like what I saw on those computer screens."

"Kind of? You mean they were not the same?" That was Eric. I shrugged.

"Yeah. It's hard to explain, but I _know_ they weren't. Kind of like American English and British English – similar, but they have their differences." I paused, looking around the room. "You think I'm lying."

"No, we don't," said Jeff with a serious expression. I shivered slightly.

"But how would the Dec-, er, policeman, know you took the files?" questioned the truck-driver guy that I have yet to learn his name.

"Tracking bug," I replied almost instantly. "He could have squirmed it into the coding and I would have never been the wiser. Just like-"

I froze, clamping my mouth shut suddenly, hoping they hadn't picked up on that last bit.

Sadly, they had.

"Just like what?" demanded the captain. I cocked my head to the side and sighed.

"I saw the same coding within the other when I was watching the computer. It looked like… No, it _was_ a virus. I don't know what it was programmed to do, but it can't be good."

Man, I was starting to hate uncomfortable silences. They were happening way too often tonight.

"Are you sure about that?" questioned Eric. I looked him dead in the eye.

"Positive. Need proof?"

He looked at me for a moment, his expression unreadable, before nodding.

And once again I found myself being dragged down the hall. The good captain was none too gentle, either. I figured he was just pissy 'cause he had been woken up in the middle of the night.

When we stopped briefly by the door, Bee caught my eye and sadly made the motion for 'sorry'.

I shrugged, tossing him a cocky grin as I was practically thrown into the room. A subtle glance over my shoulder told me that the captain's name was Lennox. I filed that information away, vowing to search his files if I ever got out of this.

Finally I was placed in front of one of the monitors, trying to ignore the giant robot that was once again lying on the platform. It worked… kind of. I happened to steal a couple glances before focusing on the screen.

"You know, I kind of need my HANDS," I shrieked the last word, scowling at the marine (whose nametag said 'Richardson') that had _very delicately _removed the metal cuffs from my wrists. "Jeez," I hissed, rubbing the circulation back into my abused appendages tenderly.

After casting one last glare at the group behind me, I knelt down in front of the computer and tapped out a series of commands into the keyboard.

"How'd you catch me?" I questioned offhandedly, never removing my eyes from the screen.

"Ratchet told us." Lennox sounded amused. I cast a pointed glare at the robot lying on the platform.

"Tattletale," I accused, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Curiosity killed the cat," Lennox shot back. I grinned widely at the glowing screen.

"But satisfaction brought it back!" I retorted, before pointing triumphantly at the screen. "There!"

They all gathered around to look.

"Well?" questioned Keller of the green-eyed doctor, unable to make heads or tails of the strange symbols.

Eric squinted at the screen, a hand over his mouth as he contemplated the data.

"I'm afraid," he started hesitantly, "that Callistus is correct."

"How did that happen?" asked Jeff. Eric shook his head.

"I do not know. But I am thankful," he added, with a slight smile towards me. I flashed my cocky grin at him, tilting my head to the side.

"I think… I can help you quarantine the virus," I stated, crossing my arms. "But it will take a while. The sooner you get rid of this thing, the better."

As if on cue, the screen flickered slightly and the robot performed something that looked suspiciously like a brief seizure. I pointed to said metallic figure.

"Case in point."

"What happened?" demanded truck-driver guy in a rushed way as I turned back around to the screen.

"It looks like… it's corrupting critical systems. Which is, obviously, not good," I offered, glancing over the collected faces. Eric looked to be in physical pain. Concerned, I reached out towards him.

"Are you okay?" I questioned, placing my hand on his shoulder.

Or, should I say, _through_ his shoulder.

I gaped at my hand, then at the spiky-haired doctor.

"You're a hologram," I accused, then shifted my gaze pointedly towards the robot and back. 'Eric' disappeared into thin air as I heard metal screeching from behind me. Turning around, I saw that the robot was sitting up.

"You are very skilled in observation," Ratchet noted, his voice echoing through the silent room. I couldn't help but stare at the giant figure, jumping to my feet and shuffling backwards a few steps as he extended a hand.

For some reason my mouth decided that it wasn't going to function at the moment so I stood there, lips slightly parted as I took in the scene. Finally, I stuttered something unintelligible and stepped forward, placing my hand on his index finger with a lopsided grin.

"So what _are_ you?" I finally managed to ask as we completed the slightly comical handshake, my hand dropping to my side.

"We are autonomous robotic organisms from the planet Cybertron," he replied smoothly. "But you may call us Autobots." I blinked for a moment.

"So you're saying you're an alien."

A deep rumble issued from his voice processor that sounded like the robot equivalent of laughter.

"Precisely."

"How many more of you are there?" I asked, remembering the little bit about 'Ironhide' when I had been reading the files.

"Many," he rumbled. "Though here on Earth, only myself and my three comrades. Which, I may add, are standing here in this very room with us… in a manner of speaking."

I remembered Eric the hologram as he said this and glanced over my shoulder at the group that was idly standing by. Smirking slightly, I pointed to the three that seemed the most out of place; Jeff, Bee, and the truck driver guy.

"Let me guess. More holograms?" I questioned, crossing my arms with a triumphant smile as the previously mentioned three nodded their heads.

"You said you can help quarantine the virus," interrupted Lennox, jerking me back into my thoughts. "How long would that take?"

I pondered the question, looking back at Ratchet as I placed a hand over my mouth.

"I'd say… a week. Two, in the worst case scenario," came the hesitant reply. I tilted my head to the side as I studied the wall intently. "It really depends on how stubborn the coding proves to be."

A nod came from the SecDef as he checked his watch, scratching his head before glancing back up at me and then to Ratchet.

"Well, Ratchet?" he questioned. Everyone's gazes were on the robot, who seemed to be pondering whatever giant alien robots ponder I suppose.

"I would be grateful of the help," he finally stated, getting me quite a few strange glances from the onlookers. I simply shrugged.

"Good. Now can we get some sleep?" Keller continued, mostly to us than to Ratchet. I sighed, shaking my head as he looked over to me.

"You can, but there is no way I'm going to be able to sleep after this," I announced, shoving my hands deeply into my pockets. "I'd like to start with the quarantine while I'm here."

"Alright. Lennox, give Callistus the password so she isn't forced to hack the door lock again," ordered the weary SecDef with a hint of amusement, shaking his head as he exited the room along with most of the onlookers. All that was left was Lennox, the three holograms, Ratchet and myself.

The captain cleared his throat a little awkwardly as he pulled a pen out of his pocket, taking my hand and writing a sequence of 5 numbers on my forearm.

"Sorry about earlier," he said quietly as he wrote, focusing intently on the dark ink that was staining my pale skin. "I was just cranky because I'm tired."

I said nothing for a moment, watching as he traced out the digits with the pen.

"It's okay," I finally said as he finished, blowing on the ink gently so it would dry. "There's another reason too, though, isn't there? You were… frightened that something would happen to the Autobots if I were to find out. Am I right?"

Lennox didn't even bother to hide his surprise at my statement, telling me right away that I was correct.

"How did you…?" he started, mouth gaping at me. I shrugged slightly.

"The government obviously doesn't want word of their existence leaking to the public," I stated, then gave the captain a small smile. "Good night, Captain Lennox."

He seemed to noticed right that minute just how early in the morning it was and I watched as his eyes drooped a little, giving him a fatigued look.

"Night, Callistus."

"Callie," I corrected. He gave me a tired smile.

"Then I'm Will."

The only sound in the room was his footsteps as he left, prompting me to search for a suitable chair as the door swung shut.

"What time _is_ it, anyways?" I questioned of no one.

"3:46," was the hologram Jeff's reply. I spotted a crate sitting nearby and commandeered it for my own purposes, planting it in front of the monitor before I dropped onto it.

"Alright, let's get started," I announced, beginning to tap out some commands on the keyboard.

* * *

Whoo! The story's getting right along. More of Callie's past in the next story! Any questions, comments, suggestions? Feel free to message me!


	6. Visions of the Past

Hey! Thanks for all the reviews and, as always, sorry about the long wait. Here's the newest chapter (obviously), in which you get to learn a bit more about Callie and her past. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. If I did, I would drive a Camaro instead of just obsessing over them.

* * *

Crack!

_A motherly gaze drifted over the small form of a six-year-old playing contentedly in the deserted sandbox before roaming over the darkened sky as the blue eyed woman rose from the worn park bench._

"_Callie, time to go home honey. There's going to be a storm," said the woman to the child, who looked up at her with a pout. "You don't want daddy to worry, do you?"_

"_No," sighed the girl in defeat, standing as she was approached by her mother._

"_Come on, we can come back tomorrow," the woman assured with a smile, taking the small hand of the girl's in her own._

_The young girl seemed satisfied with this statement and skipped along to match her mother's longer strides. A cold splash erupted across the bridge of her nose, making the child giggle with glee._

"_It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is snoring," she chanted in a sing-song voice, racing towards the tan SUV that her mother drove._

"_Careful, Callie," laughed the woman, unlocking the doors for the six-year-old to clamber into the vehicle._

Crackle, boom!

_The breath caught in the back of the small girl's throat as she heard the roar of the thunder, feeling the rumbling in her chest. Lightning arced across the cloud-covered sky, illuminating the mesmerized face of the child with a pale light. Drops of rain tapped against the windshield, marking an eerie beat to a rhythm only the skies could hear._

_Her mother entered the vehicle, shutting the door behind herself to ward off the tears of heaven as she slipped the key into the ignition._

_The sound of the engine turning over interrupted the rain's song momentarily before a woman's voice filtered quietly through the speakers, moaning a melody about something the child paid no attention to._

"_Put your seatbelt on," the mother reminded her daughter, while buckling her own in place. The child's blue and brown eyes fluttered momentarily to the object in question as she obeyed her mother's order before once again peering through the rain-soaked glass in front of her, a delighted smile gracing her features whenever lightning jumped from cloud to cloud._

_The woman had just been about to pull out of her parking space when two familiar red vehicles sped past her SUV, engines wailing as they warned any cars of their rush._

_A brief glance in her rearview mirror assured the blue-eyed woman that the two fire engines were alone as she finally pulled out into the street, headed for her home._

_With a growing sense of unease forming in the bottom of her stomach, she followed the trucks down her normal route, watching the growing cloud of black smoke, until they arrived at her house._

_Or, what was once her home._

_The child surveyed the scene with wide eyes as flames licked the cracking white paint, devouring the wood underneath with a fierce hunger. She finally pulled her eyes away from the damage, scanning the crowd for the familiar head of auburn hair, brown eyes she knew would be watching back for her from under thick eyebrows._

_But no matter how hard she peered through the crowd of curious onlookers and emergency personnel, the six-year-old couldn't find the figure of her father._

_She carefully undid her seatbelt with tiny fingers, opened her door and jumped out of the vehicle onto the pavement, her small sneakers squeaking slightly as they made contact with the rough pavement, the skirt she wore swishing about her ankles._

"_My husband is in there!" cried her mother from somewhere to her left, but the girl was more focused on a figure – two figures, one carrying another – that had just emerged from the smoke-shrouded doorway._

_Her father was placed delicately on the rain-drenched lawn by the fireman that had taken him from the house, and instantly surrounded by a group of people in black uniforms that shouted orders at each other, using unfamiliar long words that were instantly forgotten by the young girl. Her eyes never moved from the unmoving form of her father, his glazed chocolate eyes staring blankly into her own blue and brown ones until his still figure was covered in a white sheet._

"_Callie," her mother sobbed, kneeling next to the overwhelmed girl and embracing her in a tight hug. "Callie."_

_But the voice wasn't her mother's. It was not even a woman's voice that crooned her name but that of a male, with an odd, metallic sound to it._

"Callistus."

I bolted upright, my blurry, newly-awakened eyes darting around the empty room frantically as I fought to still my racing heart. A glowing monitor flashed it's data at me, the stream of coding I had been working on emitting an unfinished aura that sunk deep into my floundering consciousness.

Where was I? And what had I been doing?

Then everything came rushing back to me and I surveyed the room with a different mentality. Three things popped into my head at once; I must have fallen asleep while working was the first realization to hit me. The second was that I had no idea what time it was or how long I had been asleep, and the third being that my muscles were rather stiff from the position I had been dozing in.

"You are awake."

This was a statement, not a question, because we both knew that I was now alert.

"Yeah," I said hesitantly, half embarrassed that I had fallen asleep in the first place.

"I was concerned about your heart rate and stress levels, so I brought you out of recharge – sleep, as you humans refer to it. You were having a…" Ratchet paused, as if searching for the right wording. I stood up to stretch, waiting patiently for him to complete his sentence.

"A frightening fluctuation in your processor."

I blinked, thoroughly confused by his statement and trying to dissect it from the point of view of a computer (which is what he was, in essence. A very big computer).

A fluctuation is an abnormality, and a processor is like a brain so…

"A dream?" I amended. He gave a rumbling affirmative after a brief pause.

"What you refer to as… a nightmare," he finished, making me flush slightly.

"Yeah. But I'm awake now so no big-"

_CRACK!_

I barely managed to bite back the scream that took hold of my vocal chords, squeezing my eyes shut tight as I clapped my hands over my ears, attempting to fight off the memories that came flooding back to me.

_Smoke filled my lungs as an intense heat caressed my pale cheeks. Those haunting brown eyes staring at me, unblinking, unliving._

"Callistus?"

The voice was muffled, but penetrated my defenses easily. I let out a long breath through my nose, fighting to get rid of the burning flesh smell.

"Nothing is going to harm you, youngling," the robot's voice assured me, his words sinking into the marrow of my bones.

"It… won't go away," I whimpered, feeling once again like the small child that needed the loving embrace of its parents – or parent – after the horrendous incident that badgered her consciousness to this very day.

"It's just a dream."

But it _wasn't_ just a dream – it was a memory. I took a shuddering breath, feeling the tears welling up behind the invisible barriers I strove to uphold.

And then gentle hands were prying my own away from my ears, holding them steadily as I trembled with another thunder crash.

"This Earth weather has a psychological effect on you," the green-eyed hologram noted, making me shiver uncomfortably under his piercing gaze.

"I – I don't want to talk about it," I said with a quivering voice, feeling one of the tears escape from my wall and trace a path down my flushed face.

"It's okay," comforted the hologram, pulling me into a loose embrace rather awkwardly. I chuckled a little as I reflected on the situation, more drops of liquid erupting from my eyes as I sniffed, my throat burning as I swallowed down the need to sob uncontrollably.

"My… house was struck by lightning," I explained with a squeaking voice, wiping some of the tears away with the back of my hand as more dripped down my cheeks. "When I was six, and my dad was inside. He – he died and – I – I," I bit my lip, unable to continue for the fear that I would break down then and there. Ratchet's hologram rubbed soothing circles on my back, making my eyes droop closed with the repetitive motion.

We both stood there for what felt like hours, neither one feeling the need to speak. Finally I gave a weak smile to the doctor.

"You're very good at this, you know," I told him, my voice hoarse. He merely smiled.

"Do you feel well enough for some sustenance? I could escort you to the cafeteria, if you wish."

I scrubbed the salty water off of my face, sniffing loudly, before nodding slightly as I realized how hungry I was.

"Very well. Shall we?" He motioned to the door before taking my arm and leading me out into the hallway.

"Am I allowed…?" I questioned hesitantly as we traversed the winding corridors.

"I don't see why anyone should object," came the amused reply. I gave a fleeting half smile before we emerged into the large room that was labeled 'Mess Hall' by the plaque above the door.

It looked more like a hangar by the size alone, and was completely filled with tables and benches, all of which were empty except for one near the doors to the kitchen. It situated five people, only one that I recognized however – the captain, Lennox – and had two empty seats.

"Good afternoon," announced Ratchet. Every head turned towards us, and I suddenly realized how terrible I must look to them – messy hair, puffy eyes, tear-stained face. Though if anyone noticed, they said nothing.

"Afternoon Ratch," greeted Lennox (Will, I reminded myself), motioning towards an empty seat next to a gorgeous girl with long dark brown/black hair. "Have a seat, Callie."

I awkwardly sat myself in the seat, looking around at the gathered faces. Lennox was the only one that appeared military; the others were either too young or too civilian-looking.

"Hi, I'm Mikaela," greeted the girl sitting next to me. I gave her a small smile.

"Callie."

"This is my boyfriend, Sam," she pointed to a dorky looking kid sitting next to her, which made me smile a bit on the inside.

"I'm Sarah, Will's wife," said the blonde woman that was seated next to Lennox (Will, I reminded myself again).

"I'm Ron, my wife Judy is in the kitchen," announced the man sitting next to Sam. "We're Sam's parents."

"You're just in time for dinner," grinned Sam. I chuckled.

"Lucky me."

Just then a woman with short-ish hair appeared from the kitchen, carrying a pot filled with something I couldn't see.

"Mmm, spaghetti," said Sam, licking his lips. We all laughed and dug in as Judy (Ron's wife, the one who had appeared from the kitchen, I learned from a quick whispered conversation with Mikaela) placed the food on the table.


	7. System Failure

Sorry about the wait; I hate school. -_-' Thanks for all the reviews, favorites, et cetera! =) keep 'em coming, guys!

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. Nuff said.

* * *

"You look tired, Callie."

"I'm fine."

"Do you want to take a walk around and stretch?"

"No."

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

"Do you need-"

I cut the person's statement off by twisting around on my crate-stool, fixing them with a serious – if not fatigued – look.

"Judy, I'm fine. I'm not hungry, tired, or thirsty, and only a little uncomfortable. What I need is silence so I can think."

I felt bad for getting mad at her, because she was a very nice woman and had done nothing to incur my wrath, but I tended to get a little crabby while working.

"Okay dear. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

I gritted my teeth, rubbing my temples roughly before giving her a half smile.

"Thank you. But please, I just need some space right now."

Judy sighed in a motherly way, but dipped her head in acknowledgment before excusing herself from the otherwise empty room.

I passed a hand over my face before turning back around to the glowing monitor.

A few minutes later the door opened once more, snapping me out of my concentrated state. I was ready to unload my irritation on the intruder when I saw that it was Judy, and she had brought me a proper computer chair in which to sit instead of the wooden crate I was currently perched on.

"I thought you could use one," she admitted when she noticed my gaze. I smiled thankfully, wincing a little as I stood.

"Is it too late to take you up on that offer for a walk?" I questioned sheepishly, earning a grin from the older woman.

"Of course not, dear."

And so we walked. There was no real destination in our minds; we simply wandered around the mostly empty halls discussing anything that came to our minds.

"Tell me about your parents," Judy requested offhandedly at one point during our meanderings. I glanced over at her in surprise, but then shrugged noncommittally.

"My father was Scottish, and my mother was Spanish. They were both fans of mythology – which is how I got my name. Callistus is actually a masculine name, derived from the Greek name Kallistos, or 'most beautiful'. My father died when I was six; I don't remember much of him, only that he had dark chocolate brown eyes and bushy eyebrows."

Judy seemed sympathetic as I told her my story, then seemed as if she was having an inner battle with herself, which curiosity apparently won.

"How did your father die?" she questioned gently. I took a deep breath and then let it out slowly through my nose before replying.

"Our house caught on fire during a thunderstorm while he was inside."

"Oh, dear, I'm sorry," she apologized, placing a warm hand on my shoulder. I gave her a half smile.

"It's okay. Not your fault."

There was a long silence between us, before Judy spoke up again.

"What about your mother?"

I let a smile grace my lips at the welcome topic change.

"She's Spanish," I replied as I raised my arms over my head in a cat-like stretch, giving a noise of approval when a loud pop met my ears. "Which I'm fluent in, _si usted debe saber_."

She merely gave me a blank look. I laughed.

"'If you must know'."

"So she's still alive then?" questioned the blonde woman. I nodded.

"Yeah. Got a nice house, too. She takes care of my dogs, Athena and Lance."

"Oh, you have dogs? Us too! Ours is a Chihuahua named Mojo."

I bit back a sarcastic retort, fighting back my hatred of small dogs with difficulty.

"That's great," I finally replied, feeling my eye twitch despite myself. "I have a German shepherd and a wolf malamute."

Before we realized it, we were standing in front of the doors to the med bay. Sighing, I bid my partner farewell before re-entering the room, only to be met with the cranky robot muttering angrily to himself. Cocking my head to the side, I approached cautiously.

"Something wrong, Ratch?"

He turned his glowing optics upon my small figure, seeming to contemplate before answering.

"It's simply my… hand, as you humans refer to it. An inconvenience, but not a big problem."

I frowned and made my way over to one of the computers, which had a flashing alert on it.

_Warning. System failure._

"Let me have a look," I demanded, approaching the platform Ratchet was lying on.

"I told you it was not a pro-"

"And I'm saying let me look at it."

A glaring contest then followed, which was probably a comical sight because the robot was a giant next to me.

"If you must," he finally conceded, lowering the malfunctioning appendage to the ground to act as a platform that would lift me to the surface he was lying on. Smug, but too afraid of the 'bot's temper to gloat, I situated myself in his hand for the short ride.

"I do not think there is anything you could do to help it," he stated, letting me carefully onto the metal table.

"I've had my fair share of tinkering in robotics," I informed him, leaning closer to inspect the mass of jumbled wires. "Now keep still."

* * *

"Callistus! Have you made any progress?"

I glanced up from my position near Ratchet's side, noticing the three figures that I hadn't spotted before until the one in the center spoke. With the back of my hand I wiped away a bead of sweat, cursing as I did so and smeared oil across my forehead. Sighing, I knew that wasn't the first time I had done it and therefore let it be for the moment.

"A bit," I replied, moving around Ratchet's hand so the newcomers could see me more easily. "Ratchet was having troubles with his systems so I offered to give him a hand – no pun intended."

"He was, was he?" questioned the trucker guy with a smug grin. I smeared what was left of the oil on my hands onto my jeans before making the short hop from table to ground. A small grunt escaped my lips with the impact, but otherwise I was unharmed.

"I don't think we've been properly introduced," I stated, attempting to wipe the smeared substance off of my face but failing miserably. Jeff was the first to speak up.

"My name is Optimus Prime. I am the leader of the Autobots. This is Bumblebee, our scout," he said, pointing to Bee and then to the trucker, "and Ironhide, our weapons specialist. Ratchet is our medical officer."

I blinked slightly, taking in the information as best I could.

"What did you say Ratchet was having troubles with?" 'Jeff', now known as Optimus, asked, when a reply didn't come from me.

"Oh, well the virus that he was infected with is collapsing his systems." I walked over to the computer, typed in a burst of short commands, and then pointed to the schematic of Ratchet that popped on screen. "First to go is apparently motor control. I've done all I can but unfortunately only bought him time before the final crash. The-"

I was abruptly cut off by a shrill alarm spilling from the computer's speakers and an alert flashing on screen. A flurry of colorful words (in both English and Spanish, and maybe some in German) erupted from my mouth as my hands flew over the keys, an aggravated snarl cutting off the curses when my efforts yielded no return.

The alarm was silenced hastily as I let my head hang in defeat.

"I can't do this," I muttered, my fingers clenching into a tight fist.


End file.
